Rewriting Tradition
by alwaysflying
Summary: AU. The bohemian family unites for their annual Passover seder. No, really, they're a family.


Alison looks at her husband nervously. "Do we have enough chairs?" she asks. "There's fourteen, so – "

"Fourteen chairs or fourteen people?" Benny asks sharply.

Promptly, she replies, "Chairs." 

"Well…" Benny glances around, drawing a hand out of his pocket to count on his fingers. Extending a finger with each person's name, he begins to list them. "Well, there's you, me, Mimi and Tom, obviously, so that's four. Tom's bringing Maureen, of course – five. And my sister's going to come, which makes six – "

Alert, Alison demands, "Is she bringing that drug dealer husband of hers?"

Benny shrugs. "They're separated, but they're trying to stay on good terms – maybe. I know she's bringing her son, Angel." Before April can remark on the effeminate name, Benny hastily adds, "Okay, so that's nine people. Is your sister coming?"

Alison nods. "April's coming with her boyfriend, but – "

Suddenly the phone rings. Benny glances at the charoset wedged between his fingers. "Can you get that?" he pleads.

She nods, watching her husband sympathetically as she puts the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

Benny can hear fuzzy noises even from across the room. The words themselves are indecipherable from as far away as he is, as is the voice, but he can hear the blaring fuzz and a roar that sounds like a siren.

"Oh – yes, hi, Roger," Alison is saying, sounding disappointed. Benny laughs. Alison never liked her sister's boyfriend.

Nodding, Alison continues, "Yes, I understand. Oh, that's fine, we have plenty of room. Yes. Just bring him over. Okay. Thanks for calling ahead – yes, yes, I know, April probably did say that – okay. Okay. I'll see you later, Roger, okay? Okay. 'Bye."

She sets the phone down, groaning. "He's bringing his _brother_," she complains.

"Roger?"

Alison nods. "His little brother – Mark. Apparently his parents kicked him out. Which, if he's anything like Roger, does not surprise me." She exhales. "Well, that's eleven. That's probably everyone, right?"

Her husband considers this. "Is your dad coming?"

She hisses and slaps a hand to her forehead. "Shit. _Yes_. He is. Okay, twelve."

Benny laughs. "He's not _that _bad," he tries to console his wife.

Alison glares at him. "Yes, he is. He acts like he's in charge of everything."

"Then sit at the head of the table," Benny suggests. "That'll convince him that you're the boss. No problem. Besides, we have our own haggadah. How much more obvious could it get?"

She shakes her head. "I promise you, he'll still act like an asshole."

"Well, you can count on my family to make him feel unwelcome. Okay, sweetheart?"

Alison laughs, cracking a smile. "Yeah, okay," she says, and glances at the oven. "You've got another twenty minutes before you have to take out the spinach casserole," she reminds him. "And thirty before – "

"The meatless stuffing. I _know_, Allie. Why don't you go help Tom and Mimi get ready? Tell them that whoever's ready first can come downstairs and have the last of the Raisin Bran before we have to throw it out at sunset."

"First one down, Raisin Bran, sunset. Gotcha." With that, Alison dashes up the stairs, her blond hair splaying out behind her.

Benny returns to his cooking.

---

The doorbell rings. Tom, clad in jeans and a black "Defy Authority" T-shirt, leans against the wall in the doorway. "Should I get that?" he asks in a mutter, hoping not to have to actually answer the door and converse with his loathsome relatives.

"_Get it, Tom_!" shrieks Alison from her bedroom.

Well. That settles that.

Tom twists the doorknob, pulling the door toward him. "Hi," he murmurs before he even sees who is on the other side.

"Hi," says a chipper girl, tall and thin with cinnamon hair. "Wow. Nice place, Coffin. What do your parents do?"

Tom groans. "Maureen, you can stop acting like you've never seen it before. C'mon, I'll show you the transformed dining room."

His best friend rolls her eyes. "I can't wait."

---

When Benny's sister arrives at the door, there is nobody to answer it.

So, naturally, her resourceful husband Richard decides to take matters into his own hands – literally. He digs in his pocket for a hairpin – the hairpin that will be used to his yarmulke to his head – and inserts it casually into the lock on the door.

"Oh, _Richard_," Joanne snaps. "Please. Not in front of Angel."

But Angel's eyes are fixed determinedly on the enormous house. "It's so _big_," he says, awe-struck. "Who _lives _here?"

"Uncle Benny, honey, remember?" Joanne reminds him. "You met him – well, at your bris, and then at his son's Bar Mitzvah. Don't you remember Uncle Benny and Aunt Allie?"

Angel nods.

He doesn't remember, of course. But he'll pretend.

"Daddy," Angel yawns. "You're twisting the pin the wrong way. Clockwise, okay? You're doing it wrong."

Richard spins around. "Can you believe this kid?" he demands of his – temporary – wife. "He thinks he knows more about picking locks than I do, when I'm almost three times his age and have been picking locks since age – oh, I don't know – five?"

Angel pouts. "Clockwise," he repeats.

Slowly, as though to exaggerate it, Richard turns the hairpin clockwise.

The door opens, and the three of them enter without saying a word.

---

In the living room, Angel is sitting quietly, not disturbing anyone. Maureen and Tom are chatting eagerly on a couch on the other side of the room, probably – according to Benny – listing boys that they find attractive. Mimi is in the bathroom, styling her hair the way Alison does for her sometimes. And seated on a single couch, talking idly, is the foursome of Richard, Joanne, Benjamin and Alison.

"Who are we waiting for?" Richard demands.

"My sister," Alison replies swiftly. "April. And her boyfriend and his brother, Roger and Mark."

"And your father," Benny reminds her cheerfully. "Don't forget Dear Old Dad." 

Richard huffs impatiently. "I want to eat."

Maureen pipes up, "The food's not until page twenty in the haggadah anyway, Mr. Schunard. I checked."

He is spared having to answer by the ring of the doorbell.

Alison checks her watch. Six-forty-five. Three-quarters of an hour late.

Or going by Jewish Standard Time (or maybe just Gray Standard Time), fifteen minutes early.

April saunters into the house, holding a bouquet of flowers in front of her face to ensure that Alison sees that first, _then_ her tardy sister.

Behind her follow two blond boys, one tall and daunting, the other one shrimpy and nervous-looking.

"Time to start the seder!" announces Alison's father, slipping in through the open door. "I'm here, we're all here!"

The door slams shut.

Alison looks at it longingly, wanting desperately to leave.

---

Page One:

_DISCLAIMER_

_"This Haggadah, along with the views and opinions expressed inside it, is the sole property of its creators: Alison Gray-Coffin, Mimi Coffin, and Maureen Johnson. Any complaints with regard to the length, content, songs or overall quality may be taken up with any of the three of them. Contact information is available upon request._

_- The Coffin Family Haggadah's Oversight Department_

_Tom and Benjamin Coffin"_

---

Richard looks at page one in disgust. "You three wrote this?" he demands, pointing first to Alison, then to Mimi, and at last to the beaming Maureen.

"Yep," Mimi chirps.

Maureen smiles hugely. "Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Schunard?"

"No," grumbles Richard.

"Good!" exclaims Maureen in delight. "Then let's move on to page two. This is one of the many songs we've borrowed – "

" – but not cited," interjects Tom.

Maureen fixes him with a stare of death. "_Borrowed_ from an alternate source. Ready? We're all going to sing together."

In a chorus consisting of perhaps four voices, people around the table begin to sing:

"_There's no seder like our seder, there's no seder I know_..."

---

"B'ruchim haba'im. Welcome."

Alison smiles at the various people around the table. She continues to read aloud from the haggadah in her lap.

"We now begin our journey into another time and place. The seder is an adventure; the haggadah is our map, our guide."

Interjects Mimi, with a bold smile, "We do this like any other seder. We rotate around the table, and everyone gets to read a paragraph or section or whatever it is – you'll understand. Some passages are assigned to specific people, or some blessings only apply to a few of us. But it's not really complicated. You'll get the hang of it. Does anyone here speak Hebrew?"

The small blond boy next to Roger raises his hand. "I do, a little," he mumbles.

"Great!" Maureen squeals. "You'll get to help us define some of the words Alison put in here. Okay? Cool. Ready? Let's start!"

Roger looks at his watch.

---

"This is Mimi's passage," Alison says loudly. "It's about Miriam's Cup, and Mimi has always read that, as the honorary Miriam of our family. Mimi, tell us what your name is short for."

Mimi giggles. "Miriam," she announces.

Everyone pretends to be interested.

The little girl's brown eyes turn to the haggadah. "Miriam the Prophet, strength and song are in her hand. Miriam will dance with us to strengthen the world's song. Miriam will dance with us to heal the world. Soon, and in our time, she will lead us to the waters of sal – salv – salva – "

"Salvation," Alison murmurs.

"Salvation," Mimi echoes.

Someone at the table snorts loudly.

Clearly aggrieved, Mimi points out loudly, "I'm _nine_."

April snaps her fingers, smirking. "You tell him, Coffin. Give me five."

---

"At every seder," reads Benny, "we drink four cups of wine – "

"So basically, we drink until it looks like there are eight!" Roger interrupts, cackling.

Benny surveys him intently. "Are you even twenty-one?"

The boy – clearly a teenager – snorts. "I drink."

"I don't doubt that," Benny drawls, "but legally?"

Roger does not answer.

"So don't piss me off, kid, or you'll find yourself with grape juice."

With the expertise of a – well, a defiant teenager – Roger closes his mouth.

---

"This next step," reads Alison, "is called _urchatz _in Hebrew, which means 'the washing of the hands.' At our seder, we have a special tradition to do when we get to this step. Tom, would you like to demonstrate?"

Thomas smirks. "Sure, Mom." He pushes his chair back, still sitting on it, and raises his hands into the air. His fingers dancing, Tom declares, "We _wash-eth _the hands!"

"Now you," Alison says to her assembled family and friends. "That's how we do it, here."

Mr. Gray coughs. "_Allie_."

"Daddy, this is my seder," Alison reminds him curtly. "If you have a problem with it, that's just too bad."

"We wash-eth the hands," someone says, hands in the air.

The others follow suit.

---

"In breaking the middle matzoh," Maureen reads, "we break without symmetry. There is a bigger half and a smaller half. Our world is not evenly divided. Not everything is fair. Similarly, when we hide half of this matzoh, it represents our lifelong struggle to find ourselves."

Tom laughs. "Some of us have already found ourselves," he remarks.

"Let's _not _have a debate over religion again, okay, Tom?" Benny suggests.

"I agree," interjects Alison's father.

Tom turns to face his grandfather, his eyes sharp. In a deadpan, he drawls, "Of course you do, Grandpa. Until someone says something about being gay or at all nonconventional, you agree."

There is an awkward break.

Then, Maureen is clapping, and the silence vanishes again.

---

"Ma nishtana halailah hazeh micol halailot?" Mimi asks. As the youngest person at the table, this is the first of the questions she must ask. _What makes this night different from all other nights? _

Mark, who can understand Hebrew even if he chooses not to speak it, murmurs, "The family that doesn't like each other."

Benny swivels on the boy, but it seems that nobody else has heard him. Mark is acting as though he said nothing at all. He stares at Mimi, not looking away. Benny frowns.

What a weird kid.

---

"Now," says Maureen cheerfully, "is our skit. We'll be reenacting the story of our liberation from Egypt. Roles have already been assigned, so listen up. Richard is the Pharaoh. Benny and Alison are Amram and Yocheved. April and Joanne, Shifra and Puah. Angel, you're Tzipporah – sorry, we ran out of guys. I'm the princess, obviously. Mimi, duh, you're Miriam. Roger's Aaron. So that means that Mark is baby Moses and Tom is Moses as a grown-up."

Tom glares at her.

"Love you too, pal. Okay, guys, let's start."

Abruptly, Alison's father interrupts. "Who am _I_?"

"You're Mr. Gray," Maureen reminds him slowly.

He glares.

"Oh, in the skit?" she asks, as though she didn't know. "You get to be the narrator."

Everybody stifles laughter, except for Alison, who laughs so hard she is almost in tears.

---

Concluding the skit, it is time for the explanation of the ten plagues.

"As we recite each of the ten plagues, we remove a drop of wine from our glasses. We do this with our fingers, so that it is personal and intimate, a momentary submersion – like the first step into the Red Sea, like entering a mikvah," reads Joanne. "We hope that the next sea-opening is not also a drowning; that our singing will never again be their wailing; that our freedom will never again leave others orphaned, childless, gasping for air. "

"What the fuck?" demands Roger. "The _next sea-opening? _What next sea-opening?"

Alison sighs. Benny groans.

Tom turns to the kid and drawls, "That's assuming there ever was one to begin with."

"Atheist," mutters Maureen.

"What, aren't you?"

Maureen snorts. "Of course I am. What teenager isn't?"

---

"Dayenu," reads Mark in a steady voice. "That means 'it would have been enough.' When we sing Dayenu, we recite all the blessings that were given to us, all the blessings that would have been enough on their own. But we know that more was given, and more is promised. So let us bring Dayenu into the present, tonight. We have a vision. We are grateful for every miracle and accomplishment we make toward every goal, and yet what miracle or accomplishment would truly be sufficient – dayenu – to satisfy us?"

The rotation commences. Richard is in the bathroom.

Joanne begins. "When all the workers of the world receive just compensation and respect for their labors, enjoy safe, healthy and secure working conditions, and can take pride in their work…"

"Dayenu," everyone reads.

Next is Tom. "When governments end the escalating production of devastating weapons, secure in the knowledge that they will not be necessary…"

"Dayenu," reads everybody.

Mr. Gray is next. "When technology for the production and conservation of energy and our other natural resources is developed so that we can maintain responsible and comfortable lifestyles and still ensure a safe environment for our children…"

"Dayenu."

Maureen chirps her next paragraph. "When the air, water, fellow creatures and beautiful world are protected for the benefit and enjoyment of all, and given priority over development for the sake of profit…"

"Dayenu."

Benny reads, "When all people live freely in their own countries, practicing their beliefs and cultures without interference or persecution…"

"Dayenu."

Angel comes next. "When all women and men are allowed to make their own decisions on matters regarding their own bodies and their personal relationships without discrimination or legal consequence…"

"Dayenu."

April reads, "When people of all ages, sexes, races, religious, cultures, nations, and sexual orientations respect and appreciate one another…"

"Dayenu."

Alison, picking at a fingernail, reads the next statement. "When all children grow up in freedom, without hunger, and with the love and support needed to realize their full potential…"

"Dayenu."

Roger's voice trembles ever-so-slightly as he reads, "When all children, women, and men are free of the threat of violence, abuse, and domination; when personal power and strength are not used as weapons…"

"Dayenu."

Mimi is next. "When all people have access to the information and care they need for their physical, mental, and spiritual well-being…"

"Dayenu."

Again it is Mark's turn. "When food and shelter are accepted as human rights, not as commodities, and are available to all…"

"Dayenu."

Joanne, clearly thinking of her law firm, recites, "When no elderly person in our society has to fear hunger, cold, or loneliness…"

"Dayenu."

Tom reads, "When the peoples of the Middle East and all peoples living in strife are able to create paths to just and lasting peace…"

"Dayenu."

Mr. Gray takes a sip of wine, and, impatient as always, Maureen reads. "When people everywhere have the opportunities we have to celebrate our culture and use it as a basis to work for progressive change in the world…"

"Dayenu."

Finally, Benny reads. "If tonight each person could say, 'This year I worked as hard as I could toward my goals for improving this world so that one day all people can experience the joy I feel sitting tonight with my family and friends tonight at the seder table…"

"Dayenu," everyone choruses. "Dayenu."

---

It is again Mimi's turn to read when it comes time to read about the maror, the bitter herb.

"This is the way to experience bitterness: take a big chunk of raw horseradish and let the burning turn your face all red. This is the way to experience bitterness: dig back to a time of raw wounds, remembering how it felt before the healing began, years or months or weeks or days ago. This is the way to experience bitterness: hold the hand of a friend in pain with nothing to do about it."

Voice unsteady, Angel asks, "May I please be excused?"

Before an answer is given, he slips away and into the bathroom. The door closes behind him.

Mimi rises as well and goes to the bathroom. She knocks on the door. "Angel? Are you okay?" she asks quietly.

The door opens, and Mimi slips inside.

The seder continues when Mark begins to read.

---

Mimi and Angel have returned to the table by the time they get to the poem that Angel wrote in school the year before, which had then been faxed to Alison, who was curious about her niece.

"A toast of thankfulness to us," begins Roger. "By Angel Coffin-Schunard."

"To where we've each come from," he reads. "To where we're going and how we're changing, to being where we are and who we are."

Mimi reads, "To what we can share. To what we can't share… yet."

Mark recites, "To our joys and our struggles, which in full times we know are connected, which in hard times isolate us."

Reads Joanne, the mother of the talented poet, "To process, and the times when we lose sight of process."

"To pain, to growth," reads Richard. "To painless growth, to painful growth."

"To our efforts, our faith, our determination." Tom reads. "To our fears, tears, laughter, hugs, and kisses."

Mr. Gray reads, "To wisdom, to study, alone and in groups."

Maureen sings, "To our books and tools, to toys."

"To materials, raw and fine," Benny reads.

Angel, reading his own content for the first time, murmurs, "To work, to meetings, to sleep."

"To our eyes, which fortunately read Haggadahs," April grumbles, sounding as though she believes that the _fortune _in the poem is debatable.

"And see mountains and faces and flowers and bodies," reads Alison, "and occasionally sunshine."

"To our ears, hands, noses, mouths, toes, breasts – yeah! – and heads," Roger chuckles.

"To caresses, to touch, to our senses," Mimi whispers.

"To our knees," reads Mark, "and the times friends fall down and we pick them up."

In a conversational tone, as though _discussing _something, Joanne adds, "And the times we fall down and pick ourselves up."

"Or friends help us up," reads Richard.

"To the shoulders we cry on," Tom reads.

"To the arms that hold us," reads Mr. Gray.

"To the strength in each of us, alone," Maureen reads.

Benny reads, "To our work."

Recites Angel, "To our play."

Says April, not at all patronizingly this time, "To our loving."

Alison reads, "To our growth."

"To life itself," reads Roger, and his voice is slow and calculating, as though he is truly touched.

"L'chaim," Mimi reads.

"L'chaim!" everyone echoes.

Benny taps his knife against his glass and calls, "And it's time for dinner!" 

---

During mealtimes, the tradition in the Coffin family is for the kids to disappear into Tom or Mimi's bedroom. This is no exception, and as soon as the food comes out, Tom and Mimi grab Angel and Maureen by the wrists.

"Wait," Mimi says abruptly. "What about Mark? He's a kid."

"True," Tom admits. "Mark! You wanna come with us?" he demands of the boy, who is slowly scooping breadless stuffing onto his plate. "We're going upstairs to eat."

Mark glances at his brother, engaged in conversation with April. "Uh – yeah, sure," he says, and taps Roger on the shoulder. "I'm going upstairs, okay?"

Roger shrugs. "I don't care," he points out. Then he looks at his girlfriend and, seeing the way she keeps glancing at her sister, sighs. "You want to talk to Allie?" he asks.

April nods. "Privately."

"Okay," Roger says with a shrug, and grabs his plate. "I'm going upstairs with Mark, then."

"How old are you?" Tom asks sharply.

"Eighteen," responds Roger.

"Fine."

---

"So," says Maureen, stretched out on Tom's bed, lying on her stomach and supporting herself on her elbows. "Mark and Roger, you guys have never been here before, right?" 

"To one of these seders?" Roger asks, just as Mark replies in the negative.

Maureen nods. "I've been coming here since I was five, since my parents don't do seders and Tom's my best friend. This is my ninth year being a part of the Coffin seder, and when I was eight, I helped write the haggadah. Call me a veteran of the madness, if you will." 

Roger snorts. "We don't do seders at home, actually. We never have. So when April invited me to go to her sister's seder, I figured, why not? And Mark wanted to tag along, so… we're here."

Mark shakes his head. "It's not _that_," he protests, but he is silenced with a look from Roger.

"Okay," Tom says, effectively ending the conversation. "That's that. What else is there to talk about?" He shuffles through his desk drawer, looking for something.

"Cigarettes," suggests Roger, just as Tom pulls a carton of Marlboro Lights out from under his desk. "Wait – how do you get your sister not to tell on you?"

Tom snorts. "Mimi would never tell, right, kid?"

Mimi shakes her head solemnly. "He gave me a hundred bucks the first time I saw him smoking, and now it's ten every time."

"How do you afford it?" Roger inquires.

Tom cackles. "I sell shit."

"Clearly," Roger drawls.

Tom draws a cigarette from the box. "You want?" he asks, extending it to Roger. The boy takes it.

"Anyone else? Mark?"

Mark shakes his head fiercely.

"Maureen?"

Maureen takes one, puts it between her lips, and leans over so that she is on eye-level with Tom's book of matches. "Light me," she orders breathlessly, and drags heavily on the cigarette as soon as it is illuminated with a flame.

"Angel – you're still too young. Sorry, kid."

Angel frowns. "I don't _want _one," he points out. "Besides, you started smoking last year, when you were thirteen, and I'm thirteen."

"Yeah, but I never acted as young as you do."

Angel rolls his eyes. "Can you believe this kid?" he demands to anyone in particular, gesturing at Tom.

"Yes, actually," Maureen laughs. "How about you, Mark? You think he's crazy?"

Maybe it's the smoke in the air, but Mark just shrugs and reclines on his chair. "I just think you're weird," he mumbles. "And hot. But mostly weird."

"Are we related?" Mimi asks suddenly, looking at Roger. "I think you're cute." 

The brothers look at each other worriedly. "I think I have to take a piss," Roger announces, and leaves.

"Hey, Mimi, here's an idea," suggests Mark. "Let's go find the afikomen, okay?"

Mimi squeals and scrambles out of the room.

Roger steps back inside, holding out a twenty-dollar bill. Mark takes it. "And _that_," he says, "is what being a sibling is about."

Collins snorts. "Got that right."

---

Mimi does _not _find the middle matzoh. Instead, Mark does – accidentally, upon hearing a crunching noise while walking around the living room. Hidden there, in the middle of the floor, was a piece of matzoh shielded by a tissue.

For his "efforts," Mark is rewarded with twenty-five dollars, which he immediately announces will be donated to charity, since he doesn't like having money around. Roger calls him crazy, though Angel insists that donating to charity is the right thing to do. Mark appreciates the comment, but even more, he appreciates the five dollars given to him by Alison for "being a good person."

--- 

The third cup of wine, to resistance, is written in the haggadah alongside a quote.

"Maureen, if you will?" asks Benny. "The following is a quote from Anne Frank, and Maureen is reading it because she has played Anne Frank in a school play."

Putting on a dramatic, intense voice, Maureen begins. "It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can't build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death. I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness; I hear the ever-approaching thunder, which will destroy us too; I can feel the suffering of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again. In the meantime, I must uphold my ideals, for perhaps the time will come when I shall be able to carry them out."

The room rings with silence.

"From the diary of Anne Frank," Maureen adds, unnecessarily.

Mimi tugs on Alison's sleeve, sitting beside her due to the fact that seats always change after mealtime. "Can I read it?" she begs.

The seder continues, oblivious.

---

"At this point in the seder," reads Mark, "we open our doors now with the need to accept people into our communities. It is our belief that the Prophet Elijah will enter our hopes, if only for a moment, and allow us to be truly redeemed, if only for a moment. We recall the promise given to us by God: "…and I will _bring you into the land_…" It is a promise we remember as we invite Elijah into our homes, a promise we cannot accept until all the world is redeemed from pain, injustice, and denial of love. We long for that time to come."

Again, there is silence.

---

The ending of a seder is never clear. Guests steadily start to trickle away, into different rooms and different cars, asleep on couches and rugs. Mimi and Angel fall asleep on the former's bed, the blanket strewn on the floor with pillows scattered in random places atop the bed and all over the ground.

In Tom's room, Mark and Roger have collapsed on the floor and sit there, leaning against the bed, talking about random, inconsequential things – cheese and music and matzoh and life.

In the living room, April is flirting with Tom, who is six years her junior, as mature as he acts, and gay.

Outside on the front porch, Joanne and Richard are just _talking_, really, not trying to save their marriage but _talking_ nonetheless. They have no goal in mind.

Back in his own house is Alison's father, who left in the middle of dinner, saying that he had "important things to do."

Still at the table are Benny and Alison, alone.

"Guys! Let's finish up!" Alison wants to call, but doesn't. Slowly, she pushes her chair back and heads upstairs, heading for the bedroom. The others can find their way home.

Benny follows her.

Wildly, he thinks, "If Elijah gets in while we're asleep, let's hope he doesn't steal anything."

The bedroom door closes behind him, and Benny is plunged into darkness.


End file.
